


Poor Housekeeping

by Adarian



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23231146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: Three sweet and fluffy related stories about friends snooping through each other's stuff and the surprising things they learn about each other.1 - In Which Fenris Finds A Sketchbook2 - In Which Merrill Finds A Letter3 - In Which Isabela Finds A Friend Fiction (and shares one of her own)
Relationships: Anders/Nathaniel Howe, Fenris/Female Hawke
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	1. In Which Fenris Finds A Sketchbook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are based off three separate kink-meme prompts that I thought all complimented each other well. I hope they work together okay! The other two I hope to have up by the end of the weekend.

Once a week, Fenris came over to the Hawke mansion for a reading lesson. It was a comfortable ritual that they had carried out for the better part of a year. In the library, Fenris would practice his letters and the associated sounds and then read aloud while Hawke encouraged or corrected where necessary. Then they would sit by the fireplace, each with a cup of tea, and sit in their big soft armchairs and talk about what they had been up to that week. If their time together ran long, Fenris stayed for dinner and then maybe a glass of wine afterwards. 

It was Fenris' favourite day of the week and he was quite annoyed that he had to miss last week due to some shenanigans or another that Hawke had dragged him to. She had promised to make up the lesson another day but Fenris was more irritated that his routine had been disrupted and that he had missed their time alone together. It was quiet and comfortable, like solitude without the loneliness. 

That afternoon, Hawke was still in her office working on...something. She was always very secretive about her projects until she forced her friends into bringing them into fruition. Hawke might be locked up in her room for days only to drag them all out to track down slavers and free their prisoners. Afterwards, she would already have the authorities ready to process the criminals and safe havens for the former slaves. She did everything with calculation and foresight but for her to be working this close to their time together meant that whatever her scheme was, it was very important.

Fenris went into the library to wait for her and sat at the table he normally did his exercises on. He figured to get a head start in order to spend more time reading with Hawke so he gathered a quill and ink and grabbed the top book on the pile on the table. 

Fenris opened the exercise book, expecting to see Hawke's smooth handwriting showing examples of whatever letter or sound they were practicing that week. Instead the pages were unlined and filled with penciled sketches. They were not layouts for buildings or battle plans or something else that Hawke might reasonably have in her possession. They were all portraits. Incredibly detailed and beautifully rendered portraits of those Hawke had studied well. There were multiple of two young people, a boy and girl, who Fenris realized must have been Carver and Bethany although he had only known the one. But it was if he knew the lost twin from Hawke's soft lines and gentle touch.

Fenris flipped through a few more pages, smirking at the more chaotic drawing of Merrill who had clearly not been able to sit long enough to be properly drawn. He stopped at the most recent drawing and to his great shock, it was him. Not quite him. Hawke had been particularly flattering and made him look much more handsome than he really was. But still it was a close likeness and it was so lovingly rendered that it made Fenris' heart skip a beat. 

Hawke entered the room, apologizing for her lateness. She smiled at seeing Fenris with the book.

"Already at work I see," Hawke said. "Great. I noticed you were having trouble with the differences between ds and ths so I thought we might introduce a symbol called thorn to help mark the difference. It's very common among the Avaar."

Fenris commented, "I did not know you were an artist."

Hawke seemed to realize what he was holding and flushed. 

"Just some doodles," Hawke explained sheepishly. "You know me, I can't sit still. I often draw while you read. I'm sorry. I promise I am paying attention during our lessons. I just need to do something with my hands. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Fenris assured. "I thought you were just taking notes. It is actually reassuring. I thought that I must be terrible for you to be taking so many." 

Hawke laughed. "No, not at all. You're improving greatly, much better than most of my students. Though I suppose I usually have five or six in here at once. You are the only one who gets such personalized attention."

"I could join the other slaves if that would be-"

"No," Hawke cut him off. "That's work. Rewarding work, certainly, and I don't mind doing it. But I normally can only get the fundamentals in before they decide they've learned enough and want to spend their free time doing other things. But you have been so eager and I love your voice - I mean, I love being read to and that way I have time to draw."

Fenris felt the tips of his ears redden. "Well, if it pleases you. Perhaps...perhaps I could have one of your sketches. In remembrance of this time together. Unless it is an imposition. You have given me so much already."

Hawke brightened. "Of course. What would you like? I've been doing mostly portraits lately, but I'm quite fond of doing botanical illustrations and I used to do a lot of medical work - though I imagine body parts are not good decor." 

Fenris replied, "Just draw me something beautiful."

Hawke nodded at her notebook, still open to the picture of Fenris. "You can have that one if you'd like."

Fenris rolled his eyes. "Something beautiful, not me." 

Hawke shrugged with a smile. "I'll see what I can do then." 

With that, they started the lesson as if Fenris had never found the notebook. He stayed for dinner that night and split a half bottle of wine with Hawke out on the balcony, watching the sunset over the city. 

He would later walk home, half drunk and half in love, and wondered to himself what she had drawn that long lingering afternoon.

A few days later, a package arrived at Fenris' doorstep. He opened it cautiously to find a framed illustration. It was a detailed drawing of daffodils, just breaking through the soil. One was beginning to stretch, its petal still unfolded, but ready to emerge. 

Fenris hung it in his bedroom so it was the first thing he saw each time he woke.


	2. In Which Merrill Finds A Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently you can get in party dialogue about Merrill looking through Anders' books to find dirty spells and that is absolute perfection.

"Do you really not know what a grimoire is?" Isabela asked skeptically. "You're a mage, shouldn't you have one?"

Merrill explained, "The Dalish have a mostly oral tradition. Are you saying that other mages just write down everything they learn? Everything?"

Isabela shrugged. "I guess. I saw Hawke's once. It was pretty boring. Just human guts and how to fix them. Yuck."

Isabela took another drink and then smiled deviously. "You know who would have an interesting one? Anders. He used to work at the Pearl in Denerim. Oh if you ask him, he'll say it was only for a few weeks, but he had this one trick that was...delicious. I bet he wrote all of that down for later."

"The Pearl?" Merrill asked. "Was it a jewelry shop?"

"It was a brothel, kitten. It was a sex spell."

Merrill whispered, "There are sex spells?"

Isabela laughed, but not unkindly. "Of course there are! Maker, if you ever start knocking boots with another mage, I imagine you'll pick up a few tricks yourself." 

Merrill considered this. She didn't want to embarrass herself if she ever did take a lover. Maybe it was better to have an idea of these things before hand. And if Isabela was right, she had a good idea where to start researching these things.

Which is how Merrill found herself rooting through Anders' stuff when he was out on an errand with Hawke. Merrill looked through all the books on his shelf but they were all medical texts. She eventually got into his desk and after pushing aside a large scattering of papers, she finally found a small leather notebook. She took it out, felt badly for a time, but then opened it.

It was not what Merrill expected. It was interesting, but most of it was either about healing or elemental battle magic. There were a few trick spells at the back but they were mostly for parties and not the bedroom. But as she went through it, a folded piece of paper fell out on her lap. She eagerly opened it, hoping it was a hidden dirty spell, but then realized it was a letter. It was dated two months before and addressed to a Nathaniel Howe at Vigil's Keep in Amaranthine. 

Merrill knew she shouldn't read it but she had never been good at stifling her curiosity. So she unfolded it fully and read it. 

_Nate,_

_Today it has been three years since I left. I should have written to you before, I know. I have thought of you every night before I fall asleep. I told myself I didn't write you so that the Warden-Commander couldn't find me and have me charged for desertion. But she is a thorough woman. If Tabris wanted to bring me back, she would have done so by now._

_I owe you an apology and an explanation. I imagine you've learned some of what has happened now. You know I took Justice into me. I know you were close to him. He thinks about you almost as often as I do, even if he is not the spirit you held as a friend. Though I suppose I am not the man you once loved. I'm not the man you knew and sometimes I wonder that if we had met now if you would have wanted me at all. But I still want you. I thought the years would make it easier. We knew each other for such a short time. Maybe you've moved on. I hope you have. I want you to have everything, Nate. I want you to be happy. I'm so sorry I left without saying goodbye. I'm sorry I didn't tell you my plans. I'm sorry I took your friend from you. I thought it was kinder - no, that's a lie. I knew I wasn't strong enough to see you again. I knew I would beg you to come with me. But this isn't your war. I came to rescue Karl and when I lost him I stayed to fight to protect my fellow mage. I would tell you more but I can't risk it. I hope you can understand that._

_I love you, Nate. I think I always will. I wish I were selfish enough to go home to you. I really do. I wish I were selfish enough to beg you to come and be with me. But I know who you are, Nate. Your duty has always been stronger than your heart's desires. Maybe you'll be proud to learn that I've become more and more the same._

_Say hi to Pounce for me. I imagine now he is fat and middle aged and I hope he is living a comfortable life in your care. Please tell me you're not bringing him into the field anymore. He deserves a bit of peace as much as the rest of us._

_I do not know if I will hear the Calling. Justice thinks that he is strong enough to overcome it. I think we will not live long enough to face it. But if I do, I will find you again. I will find you in the tunnels beneath the Keep and I will fight by your side until there is no fight left in either of us. My last breath belongs to you._

_Yours in all things,  
Wilhelm _

Merrill sniffled, trying to stop crying. One of the stray cats jumped up onto her lap and purred against her chest. She petted it absentmindedly as she considered what she had just read. The first thought that came to her was that Anders didn't seem like a Wilhelm but how strange it was that she now knew his real name. 

Merrill held the letter in her hands for a time. She knew she should put it back but she thought of Anders. Poor dear sad lonely Anders. He deserved a chance at love, didn't he? And surely he had meant to send it and just hadn't gotten around to it. Why else would he address it? Surely, she was doing him a favor if she sent it along. It would be a good deed. That was it. A good deed to make up for snooping.

She took the letter and snuck it into her robes. Varric would know how to get it safely out of the city. Varric knew how to do everything. 

*****

Six weeks later, Anders would be angrily sorting through his papers, tossing the majority of his manifesto in the trash. Hawke eventually would intervene and coax him back to an even temperament. The two mages would talk and drink until the early hours and Anders stumbled back to his clinic.

When he returned, he noticed an envelope that had been stuffed among his reports from the Underground. It was sealed with blue wax, signed with a Griffon signet. It had been sent by express and could have only been on his desk for a day or so. He expected it was important. Perhaps on top of everything he was being court-martialed for desertion. It would be fitting, considering everything else.

Anders took it into his bedroom and lit a candle. He recognized the handwriting right away and realized the incredibly short note was not from the Warden-Commander but from Nathaniel Howe. He read it over several times, doubting every word was real. He was drunk. Maybe he was dreaming. There was no way Nate was writing back to him, not when Anders had never sent him that letter to begin with. Or maybe he had? Could he have? 

When Anders woke up, hungover and ashamed, he found the small card crumpled underneath his pillow. He read through it again and conceded it was no dream. 

_Will,_

_My duty is to you. I have resigned my post and I will be in Kirkwall in the early afternoon of the 4rd. Meet me at the Hanged Man. I will stay as long as you want me._

_All my love,  
Nate_

Anders jumped up and looked for his journal. He flipped through the days and realized it was the 1st. Three days. He would be there in three days. 

Anders put his hand on his chest, willing his heart to slow. Nathaniel had left everything for him. He loved him. He had chosen him.


	3. In Which Isabela Finds A Friend Fiction (and shares one of her own)

Varric didn't think of his stories as friend fiction. Honestly, he had never heard of them term before Isabela had stolen his notebook.

It had only been gone for the night but Varric knew where all of his books were at any given time. He was only surprised she had brought it back so quickly, showing up the very next day gleeful and eager to discuss them. 

Varric was surprised. "Discuss? I thought you were just going to hide it back in my bookcase. And seriously, Isabela, did you have to break the lock on it? You're better at lock picking than I am. You could have left it just like you found it."

Isabela pouted. "But I wanted you to notice. How else would you know it was me who took your stories? You might have just thought you tossed them somewhere instead of them being with your new second reader."

"Second reader?" Varric asked skeptically.

"Well someone needs to go through them and make sure the story works well. I know that whenever you write about Hawke's life all this material is going to end up in it. Lots of us write friend fiction. Not many of us get it published. I have a responsibility as your friend to help you."

Varric chuckled. "Fine then. What did you think?"

Isabela commented, "I liked the first story quite a bit. Very romantic. Small detail, but Fenris' ears don't go red when he's embarrassed. His skin is too dark for that."

Varric made a note on the manuscript. "Good point. Anything else?"

"No, I thought it very lovely otherwise. But the second story has some serious plot holes. I mean, yes I did tell Merrill to snoop through Anders' things, but the letter being in his grimoire? It seems unrealistic, especially when she says that you know how to do everything. And then Nathaniel was only three days away? Didn't that whole tranquil solution thing happen like five months ago? Wouldn't he be here already if he was coming? That just seems cruel, making something up like that. Your readers are going to think Anders' first name is Wilhelm - ew - and that he had this tall dark and handsome love interest this whole time. I mean, if you're going to pair him up, you've got Sebastian who clearly this Nathaniel is based on. Were you worried Sebastian was going to read it and get upset? Or even better, turned on?"

Varric grinned. "Well, what day is it, Rivani?"

"Hmmm...I think the...shit, it's the fourth, isn't it?"

"And just past eleven," Varric commented. "Now Blondie usually runs late, so I expect he'll be here in maybe an hour or so. Which is convenient as usually Trusty's shipments come in around then and since it happens to be coming in from Amaranthine, I imagine that's Nathaniel Howe's ride into town."

Isabela frowned. "So that's all real? You weren't making it up? Then it's not really friend fiction, is it? You're supposed to tell ridiculous and wild stories, not just retell things you already know about. I thought you were at least being creative making up a boyfriend for Anders. Now I'm just disappointed, Varric. I thought we had a shared hobby." 

"Alright then, Rivani, let's see you do better."

Isabela perked up and handed Varric her folded sheet of paper. "It's my newest work. Aveline and Donnic finally confess their feelings for each other and then have a threesome with that cute redhead with the braids...oh what's her name. Doesn't matter, I just named her randomly. Let me know what you think." 

Varric made it through an entire paragraph before he stopped reading. He was not, by any means, a prude but what was before him was...well, he wasn't sure all of that was physical possible and if it was, he wanted nothing to do with it.

Isabela grinned at him, a real shit-eating grin. She was messing with him. 

Varric stuck his tongue out and Isabela laughed. "Really, Varric, it's all in fun. If you can't make up ridiculous lies, why tell the story at all?"

"Isn't there something to be said for telling the truth?"

Isabela chuckled. "Never. Nothing ever good comes of it. Especially when it comes to the lives of your friends. The more extravagant the lie, the better." 

Many years later, sitting in interrogation by Cassandra, Varric would think of Isabela's words. _If you can't make up ridiculous lies, why tell the story at all?_

"All right, Seeker," Varric began with a smile. "Let me tell you about Hawke."


End file.
